The Holocaust Lady by Ruth Minsky Sender

Author:Ruth Minsky Sender
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon Pulse

32

I sit across from Moniek at the kitchen table. The children are outside. The house is quiet.

For days I have been telling myself I must wait for the right moment to share my plans with my husband. I know he will not be pleased with what I Want to do. But you will have to face it sooner or later, a little voice within me whispers. So do it.

I feel nervous. “I want to go to the Jewish Teachers Seminary.” The words I have rehearsed carefully again and again rush from my mouth now. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a teacher of Jewish history and culture.” I keep my eyes glued to his face. “I’m sure it will not be easy, but I want to do it, Moniek.”

He stares at me. “You want to become a teacher?”

“I can get a scholarship to cover the tuition. It will not be a financial burden, Moniek.”

“But you are a mother of three young children.”

His voice is filled with anger and disbelief. “A mother belongs at home.”

“I know I am a mother. I love being a mother. I could go to school part-time.” I try to control the sudden anger within me.

“This is crazy! You’ve lost your mind!”

“I can do it, Moniek.” My voice is strong.

His mouth tightens. “When will you go to classes?”

“In the evening. You are home in the evening.”

He studies my face as if seeing me for the first time. His eyes flash angrily. “What about dinner? When will the children eat?”

“I will feed the kids before I go.”

He walks away from the table, stops at the window for a moment, then sits down again.

“This is crazy,” he murmurs. “This is crazy.”

“Maybe . . . but I must try.”

We sit silently for a while.

“Where is the seminary?” he asks suddenly.

“In Manhattan.”

“In Manhattan!” he shouts. “It takes one hour each way by subway from here to Manhattan. You are crazy!”

“Moniek, I do not want to upset you like this.” My eyes feel moist. “Please . . . do not make it hard on me.”

He stands up again. Paces back and forth angrily. Stops in front of me. “What do you need this for?”

“My life was torn apart, my dreams destroyed. But I must try again.”

He stares silently at the window. I take his hand in mine. “You work hard. Look at it from a practical point of view. When I become a teacher and the kids are older, I will be able to help.”

“I can still support you all.”

“Moniek.” I press his hand tightly. “I know you can support us.”

“So what do you need this for?” he demands.

“It is not the money.” I blink away the tears in my eyes. “I always wanted to teach, to write.”

“I still think you’ve lost your mind.” His voice has lost its edge.

“Could be.”

I feel drained. I rest my head on the table. “I will not know until I try.”

“We will think about it,” Moniek replies softly.

“Good.” I raise my head, straighten my back. “Good.”

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